Modern Age
by Khroma
Summary: Their hometown lost to the horde, the Hawkes have taken refuge in Kirkwall. Living in a cellar, the family fortune lost to cheap casinos, the future isn't looking promising. Luke means to change that. But it's not easy finding legal work as an apostate.


It was the middle of the day, but the bare light bulbs were always on in the moldy cellar we called home. Gamlen was out, probably accumulating debt, and Mom was browsing thrift stores to escape the smell of mildew and old cabbages. That left Carver and I, sprawled over threadbare couches, pretending to watch TV. Neither of us was really paying attention to it; same old forced-smile reporter droning on and on about small zombie outbreaks in Darktown, muggings, psychics… Sure, it wasn't boring, but it wasn't varied, either. All the news of the past year could be summed up in those same words. Difference is, last year I had a job; a steady source of income. Illegal income, but hey, I take what I can get.

Carver was playing minesweeper on his phone while our dog, Chewy, drooled on his feet.

"Carver, stop that. You're wasting the battery." Also, I was bored out of my mind so I'd like it if my brother stopped ignoring me. Carver would probably disagree, but I liked to think that a conversation with me was more interesting than a game which consisted of clicking squares.

"I'll recharge it." He muttered back, without lifting his eyes from the screen. I sighed.

"Sure, you'll recharge it. And then you'll pitch in to pay the electricity bill. You should pay the whole thing, with your constant iPod and phone recharging."

"Look who's talking, Mr. fortyminuteshowers." He put down his phone. "Maybe electricity wouldn't be an issue if _someone_ had a job."

Ooh, touché, Carver. Well, I did provoke him. A little. "And you're doing any better?"

If Mom were here, she'd tell us to calm down. If Gamlen were here, he'd tell us to shut up. But it was quieter without them around; the only response to our budding argument was the flicker of a lightbulb - and I could've sworn our dog rolled his eyes.

"Hey, I'm looking. I even asked the old guy upstairs if I could help round the shop, sort records or whatever, but he's got some sort of pride in doing everything himself. _You're_ not even job-hunting."

The old guy upstairs? Huh, Carver must actually be trying to help. Most people avoided the skeletal shop-owner, and with good reason. He smelled of rancid tobacco and had the personality of a crab with an ulcer. I rubbed the bridge of my nose, frustrated. "Athenril said she'd find me something. What do you want me to do? I'm not exactly prime employee material."

"Oh, so you'd rather be the drug lord's errand boy," quipped Carver. We both knew that I was smuggling for the past year, and I wasn't proud of it. I leaned my head back onto the couch, looking at the cracked cement of our ceiling.

"Fine, you know what? I'll write myself a résumé. 'Lucas Hawke, twenty-one, refugee from Lothering, Ferelden. I live in the cellar of a shoddy record shop a block away from the elven ghetto, I'm an apostate, and all my clothes are from thrift stores or charities. I ditched college due to zombies, have no degrees in anything, and my past jobs include hiding from the Templars and drug smuggling."

Carver cracked a grin. "Shit, that really is pathetic. _My_ résumé's better than that."

"Everyone's résumé is better than that. I hand that to any potential employers, and they'll avoid me like the BLIGHT. So, I'm doomed to be an errand boy."

"How tragic. Errand boy suits you."

"Oh, shut up."

The TV's chatter filled the awkward silence the followed our conversation.

"_And today, the Sharp gang attacked and robbed a group of teenagers. Thankfully, none of them were hurt, despite losing their wallets. We will be following up with an interview, after Anne fills us in on zombie attacks in Darktown! So, Anne, how fares Darktown toda-_"

"Hey Luke," interrupted Carver. "Aveline just texted me to tell you to stop ignoring your texts and check your phone. She wants to talk to you."

"Aveline as in Aveline-the-cop? Oh, shit." I felt the blood drain from my face. Aveline was a friend, but my methods of money-making weren't strictly _legal._

"Yeah, it says here she's going to arrest you for smuggling- pffthahahahah!" Carver laughed at the horrified expression on my face. "Hahaha, nah, I'm just kidding. She needs your help with something. Wow, you're just climbing the ranks of errand boy, aren't you. Before you know it, you'll be a pro."

"Carver. That wasn't funny." I was still pale at the thought. "Well, I guess I'll go see her right now. Tell Mom where I'm at." I got up from the couch and Chewy lifted his head to watch me leave. Carver was looking smug.

"Sure. And Luke, that wasn't 'funny.' It was _hilarious_."

"See you later, asshat."


End file.
